


Competitive

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Internalized Misogyny, Misses Clause Challenge, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: Cissie once told her teammates that she had no idea if anything in her head was from her own or if it was all her mother. Now, as she gets ready for the very first school dance of her life with the very first friend she’s ever had, she struggles to shut her mom out and bring herself in.





	Competitive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_sarai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_sarai/gifts).



> The dance Cissie and Cassie are preparing for is the dance they go to in Young Justice #15: "Unstrung." This fic uses some but not all dialogue from that issue.

Never before in her life had Cissie been invited to someone else’s house. Not once had she even had a friend to hang out with. And yet, here she was in Cassie’s bedroom, perched on the edge of the mattress, helping her pick out an outfit for the dance.

“The problem is that my wardrobe pretty much only consists of two extremes,” Cassie admitted, rifling through her closet. “It’s either jeans and T-shirts, or dressy stuff my mom buys for me to wear whenever she drags me along to those boring dinner parties that her history museum is always having. And none of that stuff is cute _at all._ It make me look like I’m going to Sunday school.”

Her friend’s words brought one of Bonnie’s countless pieces of advice float to the front of Cissie’s mind.

_You’re a solo hero, Cissie. You don’t share the spotlight with anyone else. But just in case you ever have to, make sure you’re the one who looks your very best._

Irritation stabbed through her, both at her mommy issues interrupting what should have been a happy time and also for getting stuck with them in the first place. Just for once, Cissie would really like to be able to have an independent thought without Bonnie’s warped ideas and endless criticisms tagging along like an unwelcome guest.

Why the hell couldn’t she have that?

Consciously making an effort to ignore her mother’s words, Cissie gave her full attention to Cassie.

“What about your mom?” she suggested, mothers still on her mind even in spite of herself. “Does she have any clothes you could borrow?”

“Hah!” Cassie rolled her eyes, sending Cissie a look of flat disbelief. “Look, Cissie, no offense to my mom, I love her, but like I just said: she’s museum curator. A _history museum._ I don’t think she’s bought a new outfit since the mid-eighties! Honestly, though, it’s not like it’s even a big deal, considering how bland _all_ of her clothes are. I mean, they could be from any decade, since they have no style to them and are just plain _boring._ Still, it was practically a mercy-kill when she got into that catfight with your mom and completely ruined her green pantsuit. That thing was _hideous._ ”

The unwelcome reminder of Bonnie had yet another piece of her manifesto sliding through Cissie’s brain. _If you ever end up on a team, Cissie, do your best to make sure you’re the only girl. And if not, make sure that you’re the_ prettiest _girl._

Trying to ignore the part of herself that was urging her to follow Bonnie’s advice, that helping Cassie would hurt her eventually, Cissie redirected her attention to her friend’s dilemma. “Let me see what I brought along.” She was staying at Cassie’s house for the weekend, and, unable to decide what outfit she should wear for the first school dance she’d ever gone to, had packed as many clothes as she could fit.

Pulling out her monogrammed suitcase (red with a gold trim, purchased by Bonnie in preparation for future press tours), Cissie knelt down on the floor and popped the lid to see what she could find. Abandoning her search through the closet, Cassie came over and plopped down beside her.

Dumb as it might have been, Cissie couldn’t help but be thrilled by just the small gesture of camaraderie, by Cassie hanging out with her like it the most natural thing in the world. Cissie could feel a doofy smile tugging on her lips, and she doubled her efforts to locate the most fashionable find for Cassie that they were capable of.

“What were you thinking in terms of an outfit?” Cissie questioned. “I have a slip dress here, plus this super cute plaid skirt, and—oh, huh.” Somewhat surprised, she extracted a crimson velvet mini dress. “I’d totally forgotten I’d bought this. But you could wear it for the night.” She offered it to Cassie, realizing that for the first time, she actually had something to share with someone, along with a friend to share it with.

 _Never help the other girl,_ Bonnie’s voice scolded her. _It’s one thing to do it in the field, but never do it when it counts, like at galas or press conferences. Not unless there’s a camera to capture the moment and boost your image and make you look better._

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s going to work, with you having a solid six inches on me,” Cassie commented ruefully. “Any dress or skirt that’s a mini on you is going to make me look like a nun.” She sighed wistfully. “You’re so lucky to have height on your side. Tall, blonde, and beautiful . . . it’s no wonder Kon has such a thing for you.”

Automatically opening her mouth, Cissie found herself closing it again without speaking, at a loss what to say. As much as she wanted to reassure Cassie and tell her she didn’t have to worry about her going after Kon, she found that she couldn’t.

Because a selfish part of her wanted Kon and wanted him _badly_. And even though she knew it made her an awful friend, even though she knew it would hurt Cassie and she didn’t want to do that, sometimes Cissie was tempted to go ahead and take him like she knew she could. No one could mistake the way Kon looked at her. No one could misinterpret the way he constantly found excuses to stand next to her or put his hands all over her arms, waist, and shoulders.

If she really wanted to make Kon hers, all she’d have to do was crook a finger in his direction, and then he’d come running at super-speed.

But she wouldn’t do that. Not just because of Cassie. But because as much as a goof as Kon could be, he was her friend. One of her only friends, one of the first friends she’d ever had. And as much as she liked Kon, she wasn’t sure if she actually truly did _like_ him, or if it was just because she was trying to keep around the guy who both cared for her as a friend and also clearly had a crush on her. If she was just desperate to have someone who knew her mother was a freak but liked her anyway. If she would date any guy who she knew well enough and could get her away from Bonnie.

Maybe Kon wasn’t special to her like the way he was to Cassie. Or maybe he was. But she knew that either way, it was a mess, and Cissie wished she wasn’t so screwed up a person that she wasn’t sure if her own emotions were real or not.

Well, screwed up she might be, but she wasn’t that much of an idiot that she’d risk two friendships just to get one boy.

She’d been coached on composure from birth so she could exercise it in front of both supervillains and Child Protective Services caseworkers, so Cissie was careful not to give a single sign of her inner turmoil.

“You say that, but I could have sworn that I saw Kon checking you out the other day when you were wearing those tight jeans,” she lied. “You know, the ones with the lace on the cuffs and back pockets?”

Cassie perked up, hope appearing in her blue eyes. “Really?”

 _Whatever you do, don’t be the other girl’s friend. You can’t afford it. She’s your prime competition for media attention and billing space—once you start wanting to be liked by her, you’ll get soft, and then she’ll get ahead of you. You have to be on alert for when she tries to screw you over—better yet, you need to be the one who’s screwing_ her _out of any good deals._

Cissie pasted a smile on her face, trying her best to keep it from seeming too artificial. “Yeah.” Uneasy with her lie, she resumed digging in her suitcase and extracted one of her shirts, actually the one she’d been planning on wearing to the dance herself that night. “Here, why don’t you try this one? It’s not too girly, but it’s still nice enough to wear on a night out.”

It was a lightweight, short-sleeved lavender sweater that Cissie had purchased only a few weeks ago, but it had quickly become one of her favorites. The fabric was soft and comfortable, woven with a honeycomb knit, and the scoop neck and midriff cut prevented it from looking too plain. She liked wearing it—it made her feel at home in her own skin, a rarity for her.

“It’s my style,” Cassie said speculatively, taking the sweater and holding it up for examination. “I don’t know about how high cut it is, though. You can get away with the bare midriff thing. I don’t know if I can.”

“Just try it,” Cissie encouraged, surprised at how good it felt to cheer her friend on. “You just said that I’m taller than you. What’s a crop top for me might only show a few inches of your stomach and not much else.”

“If you say so.” Cassie obediently donned the sweater and then took a look in the mirror. “Hey, I like it!”

“It looks good on you,” Cissie told her, finding herself smiling. It was fun to help a friend of hers get ready and help her feel better along the way. No matter how much Bonnie would have disagreed with it. It just made it all the sweeter, she told herself, burying down the part of her that still wasn’t sure if she should be helping Cassie like she was. “You should wear it with your jeans and those platform boots you’re keeping a secret from your mom,” Cissie advised her. “Ooh, and throw on a choker, too!” she added, excited at her ability to improvise.

Cassie twisted a strand of blonde hair around her finger as she inspected her reflection in the mirror. “You don’t think that will be too much?”

“It’ll be the perfect amount,” Cissie told her, proud to be the expert at hand. So often she felt out of her depth around the rest of her team, a fraud trying to pass herself off as a legitimate hero. It was nice not to have to feel that way for once. “That shirt does a great job showing off your collar bone, and the choker will emphasize that.”  

Cassie looked at her admiringly. “Wow, you sure know your stuff.”

“A little bit of it, at least,” Cissie replied, trying to keep her voice modest. _You kind of have to when you have a mother as obsessive and single-minded as mine,_ she thought but didn’t speak out loud.

Instead, she went back to looking through her suitcase, wondering what she herself would wear. But even though she was still excited about it being her first school dance, now that she’d helped out Cassie, her own outfit seemed like far less of a concern.

 _Your looks are important. Ultimately, they’re what matter. Yeah, people might say it’s what on the inside that counts, but it’s your outside that’s going to be on billboards and magazine covers._ You _have to be the pretty one._ You _have to be the one that everyone notices. If you’re not at the top, you’ll be left in the dust, so just go right ahead and trample on whoever you need to so you can climb that ladder all the way up._

Cissie rolled her eyes at herself for being so easily able to recall her mother’s exact words even as they brought a twist of doubt to curl in her stomach. Was she making the right choice to focus more on Cassie than herself? There was no doubt in Cissie’s mind that Kon would notice what she herself was wearing, and she really did want to give him something to look at.

 _No,_ Cissie told herself reluctantly. _Don’t even go there._ Glancing up, she noticed Cassie looking the mirror happily as she clipped on a black wire choker. _It’ll be easier for everyone if you don’t._

Considering her outfit options, Cissie decided to just go with basic black and white for a color scheme, nothing too wild. After a lifetime of being pushed into the spotlight, it wouldn’t kill her to be a wallflower for the night.

* * *

The band’s riff blared throughout the Elias School’s gym as dozens of teenagers shimmied and gyrated to what Cissie thought might be swing music. It was a little dated from her taste, but from looking around at the exhilarated faces of her classmates, the music mattered a lot less than the presence of the students from the local high school —in particular, the boys—who had been invited to the Elias School Dance as part of a unity effort with the town.

As much as she’d been looking forward to the dance, Cissie couldn’t escape a lingering sense of _wrongness,_ as if an activity totally unrelated to superheroing was now compromising with her ability to function as a regular person. Not to mention that she could all too easily imagine what Bonnie would have to say if she ever were to discover Cissie had taken a night off just to pretend she was normal for a few hours.

 _You can never relax, Cissie. You can never stop, not even for a moment. You’ll lose all of your momentum if you do. And once you lose, there’s going to be a stampede of other girls stomping all over you to take your place. You’re replaceable. Remember that. So you’re going to have to work very, very hard to make everyone else forget that. If you don’t, they’ll forget_ you.

Trying to find reassurance that it was okay for her to be there, okay for her to be taking a break, she found herself voicing her concern to Cassie.

“I dunno, Cass . . .” Cissie had to raise her voice to be heard over the music, and she surveyed their surroundings to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “Maybe I should’ve blown off this dance.” A recurring worry about their absent teammate popped into her mind yet again. “With Secret missing . . .”

Cassie wasn’t having any of it. “But Cissie, you’ve been looking forward to it,” she implored. “Robin insisted we go.”

Neither point was one Cissie could argue with; she’d been excited about the dance for some time now, and Robin had told them he was doing all he could to locate Secret and that there wasn’t much they could contribute.

Cassie went on. “He said he was tracking some leads and as soon as he—”

In her scanning of the room, Cissie spotted two more of their teammates, and she couldn’t help but cut Cassie off. “Oh, Lord, they showed up!” she exclaimed, one hand going to her mouth in amused disbelief, forgetting her discomfort for the moment.

She and Cassie had been half-joking when they’d invited the boys along to the dance, not actually expecting them to accept. Naturally, Robin had declined, but here were Bart and Kon making their way across the gym towards them. Bart was dressed normally enough, though he was wearing a sweater vest, and Cissie couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Max or Helen who’d forced him into it. Meanwhile, Kon was dressed like some sleazy Hollywood director, complete with a soul patch. But Cissie couldn’t help but notice that even when he looked like a scumbag, he still was really cute.

Cassie sighed. “Watch. Kon’ll ask you to dance. I won’t even register.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Cissie said, trying to comfort her and wishing she were better at it.

Sure enough, Kon didn’t waste much time after walking up greet them to get straight to the point with Cissie. Bart raced off to hop up on the stage (much to the irritation of the band), and Kon only spared him a glance before turning to her.

“So, you wanna dance?” he asked with a grin, but after spending years attuned to her mother’s various moods, Cissie could still detect a vein of anxiety in his voice.

 _He’s nervous about asking me,_ she realized, and a part of her was thrilled. _A boy likes me enough to get nervous over me._

But she knew what had to be done, so before she could muse too long over what Kon felt for her, she pasted a smile on her face and turned to her best friend. “Cassie, Kon just asked you to dance.”

Shock and then happiness flooded Cassie’s face. “You . . . you _did?_ ” She looked to Cissie for confirmation, and, ignoring the ache suddenly throbbing within her, Cissie gave what she hoped was an encouraging nod.

“I’d love to!” Cassie positively beamed and didn’t waste a second before tugging a befuddled-looking Kon out onto the dance floor.

“Uh, yeah! Great! Let’s do it,” Kon fumbled as he went along and cast a puzzled glance back Cissie, his expression clearly demonstrating that he was trying to figure out how he’d asked one girl to dance but found himself whisked off by another.

For her part, Cissie forced down the disappointment that swelled within her at the sight of her closest friend dancing happily with the boy they both liked. There was no point in concentrating on how seeing them together made an ugly part of her seethe and a pathetic part of her curl up and cry. She’d never be making a move on Kon, not while Cassie was still nursing her crush. So she might as well just be happy for her friend.

Still, Bonnie’s advice from that time she had broken the court’s no contact order to call Cissie blared through her head as if the woman was standing right in front of her to lecture her in person.

 _I’ve seen you on the news with your team. You’re good—a far sight better than that Wonder Girl. What’s her name, Casey? Doesn’t matter. With her ratty hair and_ kneepads _, no one’s going to look twice at her. But I saw who’s looking at_ you. _Superboy. It would be good brand recognition for you to start a relationship with him, at least in public, if not private. It doesn’t have to be real, only for the journalists. You should ask him. I mean, it’s not like he has any other options on that team. Wonder Girl can’t hold a candle to you—oh, but be sure to snuff it out if she tries._

 _Enough,_ Cissie mentally snarled. She wouldn’t be following her mother’s ideas and expectations for her as a superhero. She wouldn’t. _Ever._ Plus there was really no need to be keep musing on the ramblings of someone who was no longer even legally allowed to speak her.

And finally, _finally,_ that voice in her head faded into quiet, leaving Cissie alone for the first time in a long time, even if just for a little while.

Satisfied, she wandered over to the snack table and poured herself some punch, making sure to scoop up some of the melting sherbet into her cup. There was a ruckus from the stage, and she turned to find Bart being chased away by irate band members. She chuckled to herself as she went back to watching Cassie and Kon perform what might have been an attempt at the jitterbug.

_That Casey girl . . ._

No.

Cissie was fifteen years old. It was about time she stopped paying such close attention to her mother’s every word.


End file.
